


gonna sing you a love song

by WanderingCreep



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Comic), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcohol and Pizza, Character Arc, Gunshot Wounds, Knitting, Mixtape, Nightmares, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingCreep/pseuds/WanderingCreep
Summary: it all starts with danny screwing up.





	1. sober up

**Author's Note:**

> drabbles and one shots. send requests here or here: neonflavored.tumblr.com/

sober up

 

It’s times like these Danny really wishes he was bulletproof too.

 

The world is loud with the roar of gunfire, the unnerving sound of bullets ricocheting off of a human body, and Danny is standing behind the big wall of a man named Luke Cage trying not to get hit by any stray bullets.

Of course, it helps that Cage is impervious to bullets, it would help if Danny was too, that way he wasn’t just stuck behind him doing nothing until the bad guys ran out of bullets. He was never really fond of the waiting game.

The night had started out as an attempt to gather more information on the Hand. They had been following a lead, a woman who claimed to know what they were searching for, only to have her guide them into an ambush in the form of fifty guys with semi-automatic rifles and handguns.

Okay, well, fifty was a bit of an exaggeration, but it felt like they just kept coming. If you brought down one guy, another two seemed to pop up out of nowhere, it was crazy.

To be fair, it was a rookie mistake, Danny being too gullible and running off with the woman with little to no thought that she might actually be working for the Hand. Jessica said he was too narrowminded –said he never stopped to really think outside of his near obsessive need to take down the ancient crime syndicate. He hated to think she was right, but this predicament that they’d found themselves in was too much of a reassurance that she was correct.

As usual.

It’s a while before there’s the clicking of empty gun cartridges and then its Danny’s turn to spring into action. He’s like a whirlwind, moving from guy to guy with a grace and ease that has been practiced for years. He can hear Luke whaling on the stragglers, tossing people around with a superhuman strength that Danny is still in awe of.

Danny incapacitates one guy, and moves on to the next, sidestepping as another skids by curtesy of a powerful strike from Matt, and leverages a fourth into Jessica’s waiting fist. Their cohesion as a team –Danny has to refrain from using that word out loud sometimes, he’s still not clear whether or not they’re on good enough terms to used the ‘T’ word- is showing, and he hopes that’ll be push enough to show them that they should all stick together to take down the Hand as a unit.

If he’s being honest, he kind of doesn’t want to do this without them. In the short time that he’s gotten to know them, he thinks it would really suck if he had to let them go. That maybe they could all be friends. Maybe.

While he’s thinking, Luke disarms the last of the guys, slamming him by the throat into the floor. Then there’s nothing left but the sound of hard breathing as they look around the mess they’ve made.

“Well,” says Matt, “that was fun.”

“Totally,” Jessica says dryly, completely unimpressed as always. She shakes her head, gestures at Danny. “When did you say your birthday was?”

Danny furrows his brow. “May?”

Jessica snorts, nods. “Gemini. Typical.”

“What does that mean?”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of on the hasty, gullible side, Danny,” she said, sounding not at all sorry that she had to say it. “This isn’t the first time we’ve run headfirst into an ambush like this because you trusted someone way too easily.”

Danny narrowed his eyes, feeling slightly betrayed and slightly embarrassed. “I thought she could help us.”

“Exactly,” says Jessica, “You always think, but you never, like, _think_.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“She’s kind of right,” interrupts Matt. “We need you to be a little more skeptical. You’re way too trusting. Though, I’m not too sure about the Gemini thing. That was never my deal.”

“Since when did this become ‘gang-up on Danny day’? Like, okay, maybe I could stand to be a little less hasty,” Danny tries to ignore the looks his team gives him, “but I don’t need you guys all-“

He can’t believe he hears it before the others do, before Matt especially.

 He hears it over their talking, over the rustle of Luke’s hoodie, over the sound of Jessica cracking her gum and Matt’s shuffle of bulletproof boots. The sound of a gun being cocked. By the time Matt hears the sound too, it’s too late.

_“Get down!”_

 

Jessica had been the closest.

Danny would never say it was her fault though. He’d tried to push her out of the way, since she was in the line of wayward fire, and at the time, it seemed like he had succeeded. Matt had sprung into action, being the fastest, and incapacitated the goon in question, while Danny looked over Jessica.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hefting himself off of her. He hadn’t meant to squish her like that. Jessica nods, none to gently shoving him the rest of the way off; maybe Danny would’ve been offended if he hadn’t known how Jessica worked.

“I’m fine,” she grunted, sitting up. “Probably would’ve been better if you hadn’t-“

She deliberately stops herself, glares at Danny for a moment, then rolls her eyes. “Never mind. Thanks.”

Danny gives her a watery good-natured grin. “A thanks from Jessica Jones herself. I’ll treasure it forever.”

Jessica shoots him a look that warns him not to push it and opens her mouth to say something, but then stops. Her entire expression changes to one of shock and she says, “Oh, _shit_.”

What? Was she hurt after all, or-

Oh.

Danny winces, presses his hand to his side. There’s a sharp pain coming from just above his hip, pulsing warm and wet, and when he pulls away, his palm is slick and red with blood. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Shit.”

Luke suddenly swoops down upon them, kneeling close to Danny and Jessica, hovering like he isn’t sure what to do. “He got you? Let me see how deep it is.”

Danny sits back on the heel of his palm, the other hand pressed against the wound in his side. “I’m okay,” he says, voice tight and strained. “I’m okay. I just need to focus.”

“We need to get out of here,” says Matt coming up behind them. He swivels his head towards Danny, probably having caught the scent of blood in the air. Danny would never get over how creepy that was; it was as if Matt was a shark or something.

“How deep is it? We need a hospital?”

“No,” Danny says at the same time Luke says, “Yes,” and Jessica says, “Probably.”

“I just need to-“

Suddenly, it’s like the air around him becomes pins and needles, digging into his skin and then the world shifts sideways. Then Danny realizes, it’s not the world, but _him_ that has gone sideways, just barely keeping himself from completely hitting the ground by propping himself up on his elbow.

The pain –Danny’s never been shot before; stabbed, yes- but this pain is nearly unbearable. It makes his blood feel as though its on fire, like his skin is made of paper and is being consumed by the flames within his veins. He’s pretty sure this is not what being shot feels like. It’s not this bad is it? Even being stabbed wasn’t as bad as this!

Then he remembers, dregs up a memory from the back of his pain-hazed mind; the night Colleen had been cut by one of the Hand’s blades. The blade had been poisoned; what’s to say their bullets weren’t either?

“ _Shit_ ,” Danny hisses.

Jessica is somewhere above him, forcing his hands away from the wound and yanking the fabric of his shirt up. Danny can’t see it, but he remembers what Colleen’s arm had looked like as the poison had spread through her. He imagines it looks something like that, especially with the way Luke hisses and Jessica swears.

“Call Claire,” she says. Her voice sounds as though she’s underwater. That’s probably not good.

“Way ahead of you,” comes Luke’s voice. Danny’s arm gives out then, he can’t keep himself up anymore. He can hear Luke off to the side, just barely, talking hurriedly on the phone, and then Matt is suddenly speaking.

“Stay still,” he says, obscenely calm in the face of their current situation. “Try to breathe in; we need to slow your heart rate down to keep the poison from spreading.”

Danny screws his eyes shut. “Can…heal…”

“Okay, but we need to get the bullet out first. Stop moving.”

Luke’s voice is suddenly directly above him. “Claire said to hurry; let’s go,” then he directs his voice to Danny. “Can you stand up?”

Luke and Matt try to help Danny to his feet, taking both of his arms and throwing them over their shoulders, and then they’re off, leaving a warehouse full of the Hands’ goons behind them.

 

By the time they reach Claire’s apartment, Danny is barely putting one foot in front of the other on his own. He’s blanched pale and covered in sweat, eyes screwed shut against the pain, which has spread up to his ribs.

Claire has cleared off the kitchen table for them and has her medical supplies spread out on a chair next to it. “I’m definitely gonna need a new table with the rate you guys are coming in and out,” she mumbles. Somewhere amidst the blinding pain, Danny wonders if she actually still eats off of this table considering how many people have bled all over it. He’ll have to get her a new one.

As they settle him on the table, another wave of white pain rolls over him and he nearly chews his lip off trying not to cry out. God, this is the _worst_.

“It’s about to get way worse,” says Claire; Danny hadn’t realized he’d actually said that out loud. He doesn’t get a chance to wonder how much worse it’s going to be; Claire is suddenly reaching into the wound with her forceps and startles him.

“Don’t move,” she says, then nods at Matt. “Can you come hold the flashlight? I need some more light.”

Matt looks mildly uncomfortable, so Jessica rolls her eyes and says, “I’ll do it. He won’t be able to see it.”

Luke, unsure of what to do, stands off to the side, trying to keep out of Claire and Jessica’s way. Danny is doing his best not to squirm on the table, but it looks like the bullet is actually in there pretty deep and despite being impervious to pain nowadays, Luke can’t help but feel a shiver up his spine just imagining what Danny must be feeling. The poison has spread up to Danny’s chest, just below his pectoral muscle, thin purple and black veins reaching up to his heart.

Maybe they should’ve taken him to the hospital; as talented as she was, there was nothing Claire could do about the poison without the antidote. And Luke was no doctor, but he knew that once poison reached the heart, it was over.

Danny screams, a short, strangled cry, shocking Luke out of his thoughts. Claire winces, apologizes. “Luke, come hold him. He’s moving too much.”

Luke rounds the table and braces his hands against Danny’s narrow shoulders, pinning him to the wood.  It isn’t easy; Danny is strong, not as strong as Luke of course, but he has to make an effort to keep Danny still without hurting him. “What’s going on?”

“He keeps trying to heal around the bullet. I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose or if his body is just doing it on instinct,” says Claire, still reaching into the wound. “I have to keep reopening the wound to find the bullet.”  Blood is pooling on the table under Danny’s side, and his chest is heaving with each breath. Luke is surprised he hasn’t passed out yet; that sounds _horrible_.

“I’ve almost got it,” Claire says, more to herself than to Danny or the others. “I’m almost there.”

“That’s a lot of blood,” says Matt, and Luke had almost forgotten that he was there, the man had been so quiet. He nods at him. “Can you, like…can you smell the poison?”

Matt grimaces. “Smells like rot,” he says quietly. He doesn’t say anymore, doesn’t need to. It’s already nightmarish enough.

Claire makes a triumphant noise and withdraws the forceps from the wound. The bullet she‘s pulled out of Danny is slick-looking and covered in red in the direct glow of the flashlight. “Be careful with that,” she says, tossing it in the wastebasket next to the table, “don’t know if there’s still poison on it.” Then to Danny, she says, “Danny, Danny, listen. I’ve got the bullet out. I need you to take care of the poison. Remember? Like you did for Colleen.”

Danny makes a jerking motion with his head, mimicking a nod, then Claire guides his right hand towards the wound. Danny swallows, grits his teeth, and a small light breathes its way to life in his closed fist. Luke will never get over how strange his world has become now, where blind lawyers fight crime and skinny white kids suddenly make their hands glow like sunlight.

The light burns brighter, and Danny slowly opens his fist, shaking, and makes a strained cry as the veins of poison begin to recede. Luke looks up from the spectacle to Claire, who is finally standing up straight with a sigh of relief.

“He can heal himself?”

“To an extent, yeah,” says Claire, sounding tired. “I still need to stitch up the wound though. That’ll be easy; he’ll be out like a light in a moment.” She shrugs her shoulders sheepishly. “No pun intended.”

Sure enough, the poison almost completely disappears, leaving Danny panting and pale and then unconsciousness hits him in the face like a cement truck. Luke reels back, looking over the damage. “You’re sure he’s not, y’know, bleeding out?”

Claire shakes her head, already threading her suture kit. “Yeah. It’s happened before. I’ll take care of it from here.” Then she looks up at the faces staring at her, at Jessica looking from Danny to her, at Luke staring at everyone in the room as though they might suddenly start glowing too, at Matt looking –listening, likely- to the labored breathing of his shaken up teammates.

 “So, do you guys have somewhere to be, or….”

 

It’s a while before Danny wakes up again.

Luke remembers that Danny gets insanely hungry after using his chi, remembers the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. He still kind of feels bad about barging into that guy’s place after he’d closed up shop that one time, so he makes a quick trip over, grabs some food and makes it back before Danny wakes up.

Danny comes to on the couch with a start. He looks disoriented and sleepy, like a little kid who’d just been rudely awakened from a nap (in some aspects, Luke thought he kind of was). He blinks, looking bleary-eyed and confused, at least until his eyes land on Luke.

“Where is everyone?” he croaks, throat sounding like crinkling paper.

Luke, sitting on the chair next to him, shrugs. “Out.” He holds up the bag of takeout. “Want some?”

Danny forces himself to sit up, wincing at the tug in his side. “Thanks,” he mutters. He accepts the bag and roots through it. “Is Jess okay? The guy was aiming for her.”

Luke snorts. “Yeah, she’s okay, dummy. It’s you who took a poison bullet to the gut.”

Danny pulls out one of the takeout boxes and immediately digs into it. “It really sucks.”

“Yeah, I bet it does.”

Danny pauses chewing on his beef chow fun. “I’m sensing a follow-up to this.”

Luke runs his hands over his face. “We had just had a talk about this,” he sighs. “You don’t _think_.”

Danny swallows slowly and sets the takeout box down on the coffee table. “If I had thought, it would’ve been Jess bleeding out on that table. But I didn’t. It was just instinct. You’re saying it like I had stood there and told the guy to shoot me.”

“I’m just saying, please just use your brains next time. You know we were only in that warehouse because you chased that woman off into it. If we hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have been laid up on this couch looking like death warmed over.”

Danny looks at him as if he wanted to say something in retaliation, like he wants to start an argument, as he was prone to do Luke had learned. But then, he stops. He drops his gaze from Luke to the floor then back to the takeout box.

“Fine.”

Luke blinks. _What_?

“What?”

Danny looks up at him, having resumed stuffing his face with food. “I said ‘fine’.”

“That’s it? I thought you would argue with me, or throw a tantrum or…I dunno. Something Danny-like.”

Danny gives him a flat look. “Don’t want that gift horse to bite you, Luke. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking, I was doing what I’ve been trained to do. That’s not just gonna change overnight. I’m…adjusting to a different point of view, okay? Just…I need you guys to be patient with me. The Hand…they’re still going to pay for what they’ve done, but…I want to do it the right way. But that’s going to take time and it would be nice if you guys didn’t shit all over me while I try to get there. Y’know?”

Luke blinks again. Then he grins. So he _has_ been getting through to him. “Yeah. Okay. Fair enough.”

Danny nods, goes back to his food. The two of them sit in silence for a while, before Danny asks, “Wait, why did you decide to stay behind? Why didn’t you go with everyone else?”

Luke swipes a fortune cookie from the bag and shrugs. “Figured you would’ve been hungry.”

Danny smiles knowingly, trying to hide it by eating another bite of chow fun. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”

Luke balls up the fortune and throws it at Danny’s head.


	2. sweater weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unbeknownst to the others, Jess actually likes to knit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of this photo:https://imhereformyshows.tumblr.com/post/164410113405/krysten-ritter-teaching-charlie-cox-to-knit-while

sweater weather

 

It’s dark out when Jessica thinks back on the needles in the drawer.

She hasn’t thought about them in a while, not since she started drinking, not since…well.

She used to like knitting. She would be the first person to admit that she didn’t seem like the kind of person who was into the archaic craft, all hard lines and diamond-hard exterior. Knitting was reserved for soft grandmothers, tiny women with soft hands and softer angles who didn’t drink the bar out and solve problems with cutting sarcasm and fists like granite and gunpowder.

 She was never the kind of person who was dainty and unreachable like the little porcelain dolls that sat atop shelves and china cabinets. She had a strength that was unlike those tiny soft things, physically, and she would find later on, mentally. She hadn’t broken yet. She bent, but she wouldn’t break.

Now she stared down at the silver needles in the drawer, shining in the lamplight. There was some yarn there as well, a dull plum-like purple color, and what looked like a square of the purple material, a half -finished project. Jessica couldn’t remember what she’d been trying to make. A scarf maybe? Probably one to replace the favorite gray one she wore constantly. God knows she needed a new one after letting Murdock use hers as a mask.

She frowns at it, fishes the project out of the drawer and turns it over in her hands. It’s been years. Was she even still good at it?

Before she can talk herself out of it, she slams the drawer shut and drops heavily onto her bed with the knitting needles and yarn. When she picks up the needles, there’s a familiarity that dances through her fingers as she loops the yarn around them and carefully retraces her steps. It takes her a moment to remember how to cast on the yarn and her fingers stumble, but soon she’s knitting as though nothing’s changed.

She stops from time to time to push her hair back, then goes back to work. It’s slow careful work as her hands, hands that were strong and used for violence, work the yarn, but she doesn’t once think of the whiskey in her kitchen while she knits. Instead, she thinks of her team –the idiots she’s found herself paired up with in her quest that she didn’t even really ask to be a part of. She thinks of Luke and Danny, and how they are starting to show signs of a tightly knit bond, and Matt (and how she will never let him use her scarves as masks again, because blood is a bitch to get out of cotton). She thinks of Trish and Claire and Colleen. She thinks that it’s kind of nice to know that Danny thinks she’s some sort of crazy strong warrior queen, even though he’s never told her that to her face; she knows he does though, because she can see it on his face. She thinks that Matt really should get a girlfriend, he probably wouldn’t be so uptight then. She thinks that maybe, someday, she could try again with Luke.

Even after the shotgun incident. Even after Kilgrave.

 _Hm_.

That’s enough thinking for tonight.

 

 

She’s halfway finished with the scarf.

It’s been about a week since she picked up the remains of the project, and by the end, she’s already got at least a foot of work done on it.

“You seem…mellow,” says Luke. They’re finally making good on their coffee promise from weeks ago, standing in the line at a Starbucks.

“The hell’s that mean?”

“Well, maybe not mellow, but less…I don’t know, annoyed.”

Jessica shrugs. “Been working through some things.”

Luke frowns. “You don’t have to do it alone, y’know.”

“I know. You’ve been telling me that for ages.”

“At least until you listen.”

“I’m doing okay,” says Jessica with finality. In a crowded Starbucks is really not the time to be discussing her PTSD. “If I need help I’ll let you know. I’ve got…things.”

“Things,” Luke echoes.

“Yeah, things. I do actually have a life outside you losers,” she says, earning her a playful nudge from Luke.

The huge man smiles down at her, and she feels her heart swell a little at the fondness in it. “You’re just as lame as the rest of us, quit playing.”

 

 

Almost done with the scarf, and Jessica gets stuck walking with Danny on the group’s next outing.

She isn’t wearing it, not yet, but Danny comments anyway. “You seem less…Jessica-like today. Don’t punch me, that was supposed to be a compliment.”

Jessica frowns. “Okay then, asshole, what else is that supposed to mean?”

Danny smiles a little. “Oh. There she is. I just meant it was nice to see you so not worked up.”

“Worked up,” she echoes dryly.

“Yeah. Y’know, looking like you’re ready to beat up the world just because it looked at you funny. That said, don’t punch me.”

With fewer words, it’s basically what Luke told her last week at Starbucks; she’s feeling a lot less stressed now that she’s picked up knitting again in her spare time, but she would never, never tell the others that she knits now. They’d never let her hear the end of it.

 _Jessica’s turned domestic on us, she’s a regular Suzy Homemaker,_ all that bullshit.

Its kind of a shock that her hobbies have had such an impact on her outward disposition, so much so that people notice. It’s kind of nice.

But if they tell her that she has a glow about her or some sentimental, goopy garbage like that she’s going to vomit.

 

 

It’s three in the morning when Jessica finally finishes the scarf.

 It is by no means perfect –has some troubled looking loops in the yarn and one of the corners is a little wonky looking and frayed, but its been a while since she actually picked up the craft and she’s understandably rusty. She can’t help but feel like the scarf is a metaphor for her own life or something like that, but she’s super tired and she really can’t summon up the brain power to think about it too much and she has a case that she still hasn’t looked over yet.

 

 

She wears it the next time they’re all together, and Daredevil, of all people, notices.

“You seem happier than usual,” he says, angling his head slightly at her. He pauses then, reconsiders his words. “Well, as happy as Jessica Jones can be.”

Jessica scowls. “Ha ha. What, did Iron Lung and Cage put you up to this?”

“No. Just an observation.” Matt pauses again and nods. “Nice scarf.”

That one throws Jessica for a loop. “What? How did you- never mind.”

“I heard Danny talk about it. He brought it up; said you had a new scarf and that was probably why you were so mellowed out.”

Oh. That makes more sense.

“Maybe I’ll teach you how to make one,” deadpans Jessica, “maybe then you’ll stop using mine all the time.”

“That was one time,” protests Matt. He frowns, then ducks his head. “But, that would be cool.”

Wow, there is no shame to his game. Not even a hint of blush. Part of Jessica wants to point out that she was being sarcastic and that she would never in a million years teach _fucking Daredevil_ how to knit. The other part is kind of thrilled that he didn’t even bat an eye at her kind of-sort of admission that she herself knew how to knit in the first place; Jessica Jones, the queen of rough and tumble, punch-first-ask-questions-later.

She even thinks about retracting that statement and saying she didn’t know how to knit at all actually, but she liked to think she was a pretty badass knitter, even if she’d fucked up the stitching in some places, and no one was going to take that from her.

And anyway, Matt was too cunning to fall for lies.

So, begrudgingly, Jessica wraps the scarf tighter around her neck, sighs away a scowl and says, “Next week, three o’ clock. At the office building on main street. Bring needles, yarn; don’t be late.”

 


	3. back pocket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mixtapes and team building exercises

back pocket

 

Is it so hard to believe that Danny is the one that believes in team building exercises?

Actually, that’s probably the easiest thing to believe out of how crazy the whole thing is. What’s more amazing is that the others _indulged_ him in the first place. Here are four people who couldn’t stand each other just a month ago, confined in a tiny space (i.e. Danny’s apartment) trying to coexist like normal human beings. And for all intents and purposes, it was working.

It took some bribing for Jessica to join in –par for the course at this point- and even then, it took Danny spending a small fortune on alcohol to get her to come over.

“Finally came through for me, Iron Clad,” she says, swirling the bourbon in her glass.

Danny’s only ever had Joy over at his apartment; Colleen hasn’t even been over yet. He thinks it’s kind of special that his team gets to be the second group of guests in his home, so it’s really no trouble to flash the cash and get something that all of them can enjoy together. He thinks of it like a toast to their saving of the world gig, just without the actual toasting. Jessica’s lounging back on the couch making friends with the bourbon bottle with Matt next to her. Luke is sitting on the edge of the chaise with Danny finishing out the circle on the loveseat.

There’s music playing in the background, a random playlist from Danny’s old iPod. There’s pizza boxes on the coffee table, mostly empty and mingling amongst nearly drained bottles of wine. The skyline is backing their entire setup. Things are nice.

“You’d probably be nicer to me if I was a whiskey bottle,” says Danny, not meaning any harm by it. Jessica smiles serenely at him, good and buzzed now. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

Luke and Mike laugh, and for a little while, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they’d all been friends for years, that they hadn’t just met a month ago.   
“That reminds me,” says Jessica, after tipping back the last of her bourbon, “what else you got?”

“I think that’s it,” replies Danny, leaning forward to sift through the junk on the coffee table. “We kinda went wild tonight.”

Jessica shakes her head. “Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” With that, she sets her glass down on the table and heaves herself to her feet. “But if the bourbon’s finished, then so am I. Been nice, actually, but I gotta scram.” She picked up one of the half-finished wine bottles, looked it over, shrugged, then stuffed it into her bag.

“Later,” she chirped over her shoulder, hand raised in way of goodbye. Then, she was gone.

For a whirlwind like she was, Jessica Jones was never one to stay put for very long it seemed. She showed up, did what needed to be done, said what needed to be said, and went on her way. A woman of few words who put up with even fewer things.

Matt pushed his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and stretched. “I think I’m gonna head out too. I’d stay and help clean up, but…”

Danny grinned at him, leaning back in the loveseat. “ _’But’_ …”

Matt shrugged, no shame to his game. “I don’t want to.”

Danny snorted. “Fair enough.”

Matt grabbed his cane and nodded at Danny, keeping his tone light. “You’re a good man, Danny Rand. Skinny, but good.”

Danny laughs, might’ve said something in retort, but he’d never really gotten a look at Matt’s physique under the suits –bulletproof or business- to warrant a wisecrack.

Once Matt’s gone, Danny looks to Luke, still seated on the couch and looking rather comfortable there with zero intentions of moving. Still, Danny asks him, “Guess you’ll be heading out too?”

Luke shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll help you clean up. Least I can do; you probably spent a fortune on that alcohol anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s cool,” says Danny, shrugging one shoulder. “As long as everyone liked it.” He slides out of his seat and leans down to clear away the pizza boxes.

Luke regards him quietly with an expression on his face that was equal parts smug and curious. Danny catches him looking out the corner of his eye and straightens slightly. “What?”

“You’ve gotten a lot more easygoing since…well, all things considered. Is this what Danny Rand is really like?” says Luke. He stands up, plucks a wine bottle up by the neck and searches for a trash can. “I thought you’d be small and angry forever.”

Danny quirks an eyebrow. “I’m not small and angry.”

“You’re shorter than I am and way angrier. You punched everything before you even asked any questions.”

“Doesn’t Jessica do that too?”

Luke turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. “You wanna be the one to call her out on that? Be my guest, man, I promise you’ll regret it.” He’s smiling as he says it though, and when he looks up again, Danny is smiling too.

They clean up in shared silence for a while, at least until Danny starts humming to the music playing in the background. Luke vaguely recognizes the song, hasn’t heard it in years but still feels the tickle of familiarity in the back of his mind as his lips silently reform the lyrics from memory.

“Is this…Outkast?” he asks. Danny startles, like he’d forgotten Luke was even there, probably wrapped up in whatever world he’d found in the music. He looks from the sound system where his iPod is connected back to Luke and grins sheepishly. “Uh…yeah.”

Luke turns from where he’s busy crushing pizza boxes to fit into the garbage bin and looks at Danny fully. _Kid’s full of surprises_.

“What’s a skinny rich kid doing listening to Outkast of all things?”

Danny’s ears are slightly pink. “I like Outkast. Have since I was a kid,” he says with a soft laugh. Luke grins and shakes his head. “Never woulda pegged you for the RnB, hip hop type.”

“What? What’d you think I was into?” says Danny, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know. What are most rich people into? Mozart or something?”

“I like the raw aggression. Connects, y’know? Back in Ku’n Lun they always taught me to use my aggression in a controlled, concentrated way. But the music kind of lets me break that rule without really breaking it, you know?” explains Danny.  Then he winks. “Mozart can’t do that, now can it?”

They finish cleaning up the living room in a comfortable silence, save for one of the wine bottles. There’s still some left, just enough to be finished in a swallow or three, so Luke swigs from it, humming at the pleasant burn on the way down his throat. He notices Danny fiddling with the iPod, connecting the old thing to a frayed looking charger.

“You really should get a new one,” he says, shaking his head at the wine bottle. Danny shrugs, doesn’t look up. “Maybe. This one’s special though.”

“Special as in?” inquires Luke. “Don’t tell me it,” he flaps his hand in the air, “opens mystic portals or something.” At this point, having seen Danny’s chi in action and hearing about the dragons and mystic monks, Luke was willing to believe in most of the insane shit that Danny told him about.

Danny smiles softly, shakes his head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s…I’ve had this one since I was a kid,” he sits on the arm of the couch with the device in his hands. “It’s all I’ve got left from my old life. It was all I could find after our plane…”

Danny trails off, and it occurs to Luke that he doesn’t actually know anything about what happened to Danny that made him this way, at least until now. He knew his parents were dead, Danny had said as much when explaining why he was fighting so hard against the Hand. It kind of makes sense, in a way. He’s angry and impulsive, yeah, but that was because he was still a kid. His childhood was over the moment his parents died and the monks came to take him in; he’d probably never had a chance to really grow out of the hurt.

Now, knowing that he’d lost his parents in such a traumatic way, it was kind of no surprise that he acted the way he did. And why he seemed to want the four of them –Luke, Matt, himself and Jess- to stay together. Having lost a family, he was desperate to find another. Knowing that, everything fell into place. Everything made sense.

Luke perches himself on the arm of the loveseat and wordlessly offers Danny the wine bottle, which Danny accepts with a small smile. He tosses back the rest of it, shakes his head at the burn, and then looks at the bottle. Then he looks at Luke. “Wait, did you put your mouth on this?”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“Gross,” but Danny’s laughing as he says it. Outkast is still playing in the background, Andre crooning about a girl he’s jilted, left to apologize a trillion times.

“You ever do that?” asks Luke. “Stood up a girl?”

It’s kind of a dumb question. Danny probably wasn’t old enough to have a girlfriend when he was taken in by the monks, and he figured there was zero time for a mighty warrior to date in a mystical city full of mystical people. It’s just nice to change the subject.

Danny looks horrified. “What? No! I mean, have you?”

“Nah. Wasn’t raised that way.” Luke thinks back to his childhood. It hadn’t been great, but there had been good times. “I used to have a crush on this girl. We were maybe in the third or fourth grade. Sarah Wilkins.” Luke nods sagely, recalling her pink ribbons and pigtails. “I put a frog in her bookbag.”

Danny throws his head back and laughs, and it’s like sunshine in a bottle. Luke’s never heard him laugh so loudly, never seen him smile so big. It’s…actually nice. Attractive.

“ _Really_? That’s awful! Why didn’t you just…I dunno, make her a mix CD or something?”

“I was, like, eight, cut me some slack. Also, a mix CD? Do people even do that anymore?”

Danny laughs again, shrugs. “I have no idea. They were still a thing when I was a kid. I probably would’ve given one to a girl I liked.”

“Oh yeah? What would you have put on it?”

Danny looks thoughtful for a moment, leaning back in the arm of the couch with his arms folded across his chest. “I don’t really know, now that you’ve put me on the spot. Probably some stuff I thought was cool from when I was a kid. Might be something stupid, like Maroon 5.”

Luke snorts. “Oh, god, no. I would’ve dumped you.”

Danny’s mouth drops open in shock. “What? Really? Aw.”

The gesture is cute, more adorable than it has any right to be, and it’s the kind of thing that makes people make questionable decisions, makes them make stupid choices and think with their fluttering hearts instead of their brains like normal human beings. Its got too much power. Too much influence.

At least, that’s what Luke blames his new idea on.

 

Luke isn’t sure what compels him to think this is a good idea, but the next time he sees Danny, which isn’t too much later, he slips him a CD wrapped in a little white paper sleeve and simply says, “This is how you get a girl to like you.”

He doesn’t see Danny take the CD home, boot up his laptop, stick the CD inside and pull on his headphones. He doesn’t see him lying in the middle of his living room, hands lying idly by his sides as he listens to the playlist Luke’s made for him. He doesn’t see Danny smile softly at each song, carefully curated to project the warmth of a nervous crush.

Probably for good reason too, Luke had never been good at keeping a straight face around his schoolyard crushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what songs would you guys put on the mixtape? i have 'back pocket' by vulfpeck (which the story was named after). you can listen to it here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5pYL-Y--To


	4. shockwaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we all have nightmares.

shockwaves

 

Nightmares are common in their line of work.

They come and they go, and you learn how to deal with them. Sometimes you wake up in a cold sweat, or you cry in your sleep, or you wake up the next day feeling like shit because your entire psyche just feels…sour.

Danny’s no stranger to nightmares. He has them from time to time, less often now than he did when he was a kid though. He has nightmares about the plan crash, about his mom, about the Hand. He wakes up sweating, rubs his face with his hands, then gets up and meditates, because it’s not like he’s going back to bed anytime soon.

He’s sure he’s not the only one of the group to have nightmares. He’s pretty sure Jess, for all her sarcasm –which he’s certain is a defense mechanism- has nightmares about whatever it was that made her the way she is. He thinks it might have something to do with that time she shot Luke in the face with a shotgun, but he’s not going to pry. Matt probably has nightmares too, about whatever happened to make him blind. Again, Danny isn’t going to pry, it’s not his business and Matt is not going to make it his business either.

But Luke, Danny isn’t too sure. He knows he’s been to prison before, but he’s so cool and calm that it’s hard to believe it left any lasting impact on his psyche. Danny’s not claiming to be a psychologist either, but he figures it must take a lot of work to keep up a façade when you’re really suffering.

And Luke makes it look easy.

Sometimes when Luke comes over and Danny has nightmares, Danny has to be extra careful not to wake him up when he climbs out of bed to meditate. And in the morning, Luke never brings it up if he notices that Danny’s side of the bed is cold as slate. Probably doesn’t want to encroach on his comfort zone. But whenever he spends the night, he never seems to have nightmares.

Luke’s not a heavy sleeper by any means –once again, it probably had something to do with his stint in prison- but he doesn’t wake at the slightest noise either. He doesn’t toss or turn; he sleeps on his side with his back to the world, which Danny would’ve thought dangerous if Luke wasn’t impervious to everything under the sun. He just…sleeps.

Until he doesn’t.

Danny doesn’t know what he’s hearing until he actually sees it. He’s not a light sleeper either, as part of his training, so it doesn’t take much of the noise to roust him. It sounds like rustling fabric and panting, and at first, Danny’s first instinct is pain. Someone’s in pain.

He remembers he’s not alone next, that he did indeed go to sleep in his own apartment with someone next to him, so an intruder is ruled out. _It’s Luke_ , his mind recalls sleepily, _Luke’s in trouble._

Danny sits up on his elbows and blinks into the darkness, bleary eyes falling on Luke. He can just barely make out broad shoulders in the light of the city skyline, but nothing else. There’s no one else there. No assassins or thieves. Just Luke, shoulders heaving, and when Danny reaches out to touch him, covered in a cold sweat.

“Luke,” he whispers. He shakes his shoulder. “ _Luke_.”

Luke seems to fold in on himself, trying to make himself smaller, or maybe trying to get away from the touch. Danny frowns, tries calling louder. “Luke, wake up.”

The panting noise is coming louder now, faster. Danny knows Luke is in distress now, he can feel his shoulders trembling and tensed. A nightmare.

“Luke,” he calls again, as loud as he dares this time, “come on, you have to-“

Danny’s reflexes aren’t fast enough to stop it coming. One minute he’s leaning over Luke, the next, he’s on his back pinned under a huge weight with a sharp pain running hot and sudden through his collarbone.

He cries out and for a moment, he panics, using his free hand to grab at the larger one pressing down hard on his chest. The other hand is being crushed against the mattress, held down at the wrist by Luke’s other hand.

Danny forces himself to calm down, if he panics he’ll make things worse. “ _Luke_ ,” he tries in a voice tight with pain, but calm as he can manage. “Luke, it’s me. It’s Danny.”

He can hear Luke breathing over him, hear it coming harsh and quick. He can even hear it falter slightly as confusion rolls over him like a wave.

“It’s Danny. We’re in New York City,” he says slowly. “You’re at my place, remember?”

Luke goes quiet then, stilling completely over Danny, and Danny wonders what’s racing through his head at the moment. Then he feels Luke move, scrambling, and the room is suddenly full of light, warm and yellow from the lamp on the bedside table.

Then he sees Luke.

He’s sweaty and shaking slightly, looking way out of it. He’s got this expression on his face that looks haunted, like something’s spooked him, which Danny didn’t think was possible, personally. He blinks, and then it’s like he’s seeing Danny for the first time, like he hadn’t been fully awake until he’d looked down and saw him. He jerks away as if he’s been burned and the immediate loss of pressure makes Danny’s bones ache and decompress.

Free, Danny angles himself slightly away from Luke, rolling onto his side. Not because he’s scared, but because he doesn’t want Luke to see what he’s done. He doesn’t need that, not right now. His other hand, the right one, is tingling from the circulation being nearly cut off, and his wrist and collarbone are throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He does his best not to moan in pain, tells himself this is far from the worst he’s had to endure.

“Danny?”

Danny nods at the sound of his name, nods because he thinks his that if he tries to speak right now, his voice will betray him.

“I’m sorry,” says Luke. He shakes his head and exhales like that might dispel the remnants of the dream with it. “Did I wake you up?”

Danny shakes his head. “S’okay,” he says, and okay, his voice is stronger than he thought, maybe he can make this work. “What about you?”

At the last moment, his voice cracks, and he swears inwardly. Damn. So close.

Immediately, he feels Luke tense over him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

It feels like his injuries decide that they want to really start hurting the moment Luke shows some concern, because the moment the words leave his mouth, Danny screws his eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain needles through the fractures.

“Let me see,” says Luke, prying Danny’s hand away from his collarbone. He runs his thumb over the bone, frowning when he feels something he doesn’t like.

“You weren’t gonna tell me that I hurt you, were you?” he says looking guilty, and that was what Danny was trying to prevent. Danny shrugs as best he can with his injured collarbone and shoulders flat against the mattress.

“Eventually, yeah.”

Luke sighs skyward and leans back, giving Danny room to sit up a little. “It’s okay,” he says, cradling his wrist in his lap, the other hand involuntarily reaching up to rest his palm over his collarbone. “You didn’t mean to. And I stupidly tried to wake you up anyway, so it’s kinda my fault.”

“I should have remembered,” says Luke. “You weren’t –I wasn’t…” he stops himself and sighs.

Danny tilts his head, trying to prompt Luke to find his eyes and meet his gaze. “Luke,” he says softly, “what were you dreaming about?”

Luke looks at him for the briefest of moments. Something flickers over his eyes for a split second, like he’s debating on whether or not to tell Danny the truth or give him something akin to cough syrup; sweet, superficial, something that wouldn’t worry him. Eventually he decides on something, and Danny is all ears.

“A lot of things, really,” Luke begins slowly. “Mostly people I couldn’t save. Not being able to save people I care about.”

“Like Matt?” says Danny, recalling the months of the man’s absence. Even he had had nightmares about that.

“Like Jess; I couldn’t help her back then,” says Luke. “And you.” He pauses and gestures at Danny’s shoulder, looking sheepish and guilty. “I’m sorry about that. I was still dreaming.”

“What, you thought I was a bad guy?” says Danny, lips quirking a little. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll just remember for future reference.”

Luke looks unimpressed, which is something Danny has become accustomed to. “I almost snap your collarbone in half and you turn it into a silver lining.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “You’re the happiest guy I know.”

Danny shrugs his good shoulder. “Someone needs to be. Can’t be broody all the time. You had a nightmare. It’s okay. We all have them. I’ll heal.”

Luke shifts his gaze to the space between them. “Still. I’m sorry.”

Danny smiles softly; leave it to the impenetrable man to have the softest heart. “It’s fine. Look,” he moves his hand away from his collarbone and places it on Luke’s shoulder. “I’m okay. I just need to focus my chi and I’ll heal. It’s not bad enough that I can’t handle it.”

Then he gently shoves Luke’s shoulder, which is basically the equivalent of trying to jostle a brick wall. “Do the others know you worry about them like a mom?”

Luke gives him a sly look. “Never. And you better not tell them either.”

Danny’s eyes narrow like a cat and he leans forward, testing the waters. “Or what?”

Luke quirks an eyebrow and reaches up behind Danny’s head, threading his fingers through his hair and pressing their foreheads together. “Or I’ll shave you bald,” he says, voice low and unfairly provocative for what he’s threatening to do.

“Okay,” laughs Danny. “Deal.”

He laughs again when Luke kisses him, quieting just enough to reciprocate, and tilts his head up and back to give Luke more access when he starts nosing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he says, making a soft noise when Luke peppers kisses down his throat, “and say you’re feeling better.”

Of course Luke doesn’t answer, too busy trying to get another kiss out of Danny.

“Mm, wait,” Danny mumbles against his lips, “I gotta –gotta, um, heal the….”

“Oh,” Luke pulls himself away, brushes his thumb over Danny’s collarbone. “Right.”

“Hey, none of that,” says Danny. “We were just having a moment there. And I don’t blame you for this. It barely even hurts.”

“Lies.”

“Okay, maybe a little. But the point is, it’s not your fault.” Danny nudges him with his arm, smiling to reassure him. “And don’t worry about the nightmares. You’re doing right by Jess now, and Matt, well…he’s Matt. We could worry about him until we’ve got gray hairs and it wouldn’t make a difference. I’m actually pretty sure he’s immortal.”

Luke cracks a smile at that and Danny beams. “And what about you?” says Luke.

Danny shrugs. “What about me? I’ll be fine; I’m the immortal Iron Fist.”

Luke rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Danny’s head. “Whatever. Get better. I’m going back to sleep.”


End file.
